And as to being blear-eyed, that
must be caused by the simple fact that I have nothing all day long
before my eyes but you, Gammer Gurton--you, with your face like a
full moon--you, sailing through the room like a frigate, and with
your grappling-irons, your hands, smashing to pieces everything
except your own looking-glass."
"You shall pay me for that, you double-faced, thread-bare lout!"
screamed Gammer Gurton, as she rushed on Hodge with clenched fist.
But John Heywood's cunning servant had anticipated this; he had
already slipped under the large table which stood in the middle of
the room. As the housekeeper now made a plunge to drag him out of
his extemporary fortress, he gave her such a hearty pinch on the
leg, that she sprang back with a scream, and sank, wholly overcome
by the pain, into the huge, leather-covered elbow-chair which was
near her workstand at the window.
"You are a monster, Hodge," groaned she, exhausted--" a heartless,
horrible monster. You have stolen my sewing-needle--you only. For
you knew very well that it was my last one, and that, if I have not
that, I must go at once to the shopkeeper to buy some needles. And
that is just what you want, you weathercock, you. You only want me
to go out, that you may have an opportunity to play with Tib."
"Tib? Who is Tib?" asked Hodge as he stretched out his long neck
from under the table, and stared at Gammer Gurton with well-assumed
astonishment.
"Now this otter wants me yet to tell him who Tib is!" screamed the
exasperated dame.
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